


I want to find you in the Revolution

by rinskiroo



Series: A Good Space Boy From A Good Space Family [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: A new hope, F/M, Family, Gen, POV First Person, Rogue One - Freeform, rebellion era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinskiroo/pseuds/rinskiroo
Summary: I used to be no one, until I decided to do something.  I used to listen to the news and get so upset, but wonder what could someone like me do?  Can one person really make a difference?  Perhaps if we stand together, we can save the galaxy.Power couple Shara and Kes as youngins before joining the Rebellion.





	I want to find you in the Revolution

The Empire has stretched out across all of the galaxy.  It used to be the Republic, and as corrupt and rotten as such an institution was, at least there was the feigned idea of fair rule.  It’s the same as it was, really.  The Core sits in splendor, unaffected by the poverty and the oppression disguised as patriotism that plagues the Outer Rim.

I wonder if they care that their fleets of battle cruisers are built on the backs of people treated as slaves.  Planets are left to rot, stripped of their resources, left barely inhabitable once they’ve served their use.  Do they care?  I ask my father, but he just looks away sadly and grumbles.

Ours was one of those planets.  In my childhood, I remember a forest filled with fruit trees, the ground littered with wild flowers, and snow-capped mountains that stretched into the clouds.  The Empire came and promised us riches, promised us protection, and a seat in the Imperial Senate.  We would be strong like the rich planets of the Core; we had much to offer our great Emperor.  They cleared the land, blasted the tops off the mountains, and assured us it was necessary to achieve greatness.

My mother worked in the mines.  She worked until she died.  We were assured her sacrifice was necessary to achieve greatness.

“Don’t stay up too late, pretty girl,”  my father tells me as he pushes the mess of thick, brown hair away from my forehead and gives me a kiss.  I mumble in response and crouch back down in front of the open panel, spanner in my hand.

I wait for the footsteps to fade, for the sound of the door echoing shut.  I finish tightening the last bolt and click the panel back into place quickly, much quicker than I had been doing the entirety of this small repair task.  I practically run down towards the common area in the galley and jump over the back of the couch.

“Has it started yet?”  I lean over the datapad clutched in the boy’s hands as I scoot in uncomfortably close, completely invading his personal space.

“Ah, hey, no, not yet.”

The Devaronian woman lounging across a chair laughs loudly at the blush creeping across the boy’s cheeks.  She tells me that he used to be suave and boastful before he took this job and that I’ve somehow broken him.  Maybe I did.  Maybe I broke the rough exterior to get to the kind man that was underneath.  I like that idea.

_ “This is Resh Esk Bell coming to you live--”   _ The broadcast went on with the fast talking rogue operator delivering the headlines from around the galaxy that the Empire didn’t want us to hear.  Stories about battles being fought, about regular people rising up--about hope.  I remember the broadcast of a boy near my age who implored the galaxy to fight back and the ousted Imperial Senator from Chandrila who took a stand.  Those fighters, those rebels, they fight and die and lose more ground than they gain, but still they continue.  They still believe they are just and right and that one day that will be enough.  I believe it.

I glance at the boy I’m sitting next to.  He’s watching the broadcast intently, hanging on every word.  He believes it, too.

Months pass much the same.  We fly from one end of the galaxy to the other and everything is the same.  Despite the clandestine transmissions reporting on rebel engagements, nothing has changed.  The battles they’ve won have made little dent in the way the galaxy actually is.  So many Senators are in hiding now and I wonder how can they affect real change if they leave our government nonfunctional.  The Imperial News Network derides the character of the defecting politicians, calls the Senate obsolete, but I wonder, if they mattered so little, why are they being hunted so feverently.

We hear whispers of a great battle.  Something terrible has happened, but the Rebellion was there.  There were many losses, but there are hints at a victory.  R. E. Bell makes it sound hopeful, but for some reason I am nervous.  There’s a knot in my chest and I feel like something terrible is just on the horizon.  I barely remember the horizon these days.  Space is wide and empty.

“I miss grass,”  I say out loud suddenly over dinner.  The others look up from their meals at me.  The Devaronian, who has decided to lounge on the couch with both bowl and datapad resting on her chest, says nothing and continues eating.

My father smiles, almost sadly, and nods.  “I miss the flowers.”  When he says that, I know he means my mother.

“I miss standing out in the middle of a downpour, and climbing trees, and fat koyo you can just stick your whole face in.”  He looks over at me and smiles and everyone laughs.  My father goes back to eating, but the boy’s gaze lingers on me.  His eyes are smiling with his lips and after a long second, he winks at me before returning to his food.

I know that I’m blushing with my smile.  I bite my lip and watch him as he scrapes the near-flavorless food across his plate.  I wonder if he’ll ever kiss me, or if I should make the first move.  It is a childish game we’re playing--flirting just outside of my father’s awareness, invading each other’s space, but never quite touching.  We’re not children, but not quite adults.  Somewhere in the middle of still needing my father to look out for us and wanting to be independent.

“Aren’t you hungry--”

My father notices that I’ve stopped eating, but he’s interrupted.  There’s a cough and a crash as the Devaronian sits up suddenly on the couch.  Her plate clatters to the ground.  She says nothing, just looks at us, her yellow eyes wide.  On her datapad is the small hologram of a man in an Imperial uniform.  He’s old and very serious.  She brings the datapad over to the table where the rest of us are sitting and turns up the volume so we can all hear this announcement.  I do not think I will ever forget those words.

“People of the Empire:  An attack has been made against you.  Rebels on Alderaan have attempted have attempted a coup.  In their foolishness, they activated a weapon and destroyed their own planet in an attempt to destabilize our Empire.  Our Empire is not so easily threatened.”

We sit in stunned silence after the image of Moff Tarkin blinks out.  The coldness of his eyes, the stiff Imperial posture--it is obvious who is making the threat.

“Alderaan destroyed by its own people?  I thought they had a philosophy of nonviolence?”

My father just snorts at the boy’s question.  “Yes, in the same way Jedha was left uninhabitable by a  _ mining  _ accident.”

“We have to do something.”  I can’t believe I’m actually saying it out loud.

“Damn right.”  He’s looking at me again, only this time there’s determination in his eyes.  His features are set and serious.  “They can’t just blow up a whole planet--billions of lives--we can’t let them get away with this.”

The Devaronian is breathing hard, but she doesn’t say anything.  I know she hates the Empire as much as the rest of us, but she’s terrified.  Flying on my father’s ship is safe.  The Rebellion, war, is anything but.

“What can we do?”  my father asks.  “Fight?  Die?  Every day it’s news of more dissidents being killed or jailed.”

“The HoloNet lies!”  I practically leap out of my chair as I shout down at my father.  I have never raised my voice to him before, but I am incensed.  Everything the Empire tells us is a lie.  He just said it himself!  Jedha wasn’t an accident!  “They want us to be scared.  Want us to think we can’t do anything.”

“How can we sit by and do nothing while others fight and die?”  the boy asks.  My father took him in, gave him a job and a safe place to live.  He owes him a debt, but he speaks what’s in his heart, what he believes.

The argument comes to nothing.  My father puts his foot down and tells us if we want to talk about revolution, we can do it after he goes to bed.  I hear him crying later.  We had friends on Alderaan, distant relations, people we hadn’t talked to in years, and would never get the chance to speak to again.  The Empire has taken so much from us, and yet I feel like we are the lucky ones.  We still have each other, still have this ship which gives us more freedom than anyone on Coruscant or Corellia must have.  Certainly more freedom than Ryloth or Wobani.

“Bell says they’re calling for volunteers,”  the boy tells me quietly after my father has left.  I’m washing the dishes and he’s standing awfully close again, invading my space.  “She gave out some phrases to use to find rebel contacts.  Next time we make port…”

He leaves the suggestion hanging.  He wants to fight.  I… don’t really want to fight.  I don’t want to kill people.  I don’t want to die.  But I don’t want two billion people to have died and have it not mean anything.  I don’t want others to have to die to secure my freedom, my right to exist.  That’s what’s happening right now.  The Rebellion is out there fighting and I’m here with a full belly washing dishes.

In the crush of the busy docking port of Rantine Station, he finally takes my hand.  It’s warm and soft, though a little sweaty.  We’re nervous, but determined.  He squeezes gently, reminds me that we’re in this together.

 

_ Papa, _

_ I can’t sit in comfort while others sit in bondage.  I can’t eat a full meal while others starve.  I can’t enjoy a quiet, safe life while others sacrifice everything to fight against oppression. _

_ Kes is with me.  We will keep each other safe. _

_ I love you. _

_ Shara _

**Author's Note:**

> One of this month's challenge prompts was "Outsider POV: a normal person in an extraordinary world." Shara was normal once, and then she went on to do extraordinary things.
> 
> Thank you Corru for coming up with a name for R. E. Bell. Thank you Satu for double checking my tenses.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cosset](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295750) by [rinskiroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinskiroo/pseuds/rinskiroo)




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